


sing me

by hansoom



Category: PRISTIN (Band)
Genre: Drabble Collection, a drabble per trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 04:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hansoom/pseuds/hansoom
Summary: pristin drabble collection





	1. Chapter 1

“what’s this?”

sungyeon picks carefully at the pink flower nestled into junghyun’s sweater. it’s still fresh, its bud coated in a dull red.

“oh,” junghyun mouths softly. the library isn’t a place to be loud. in any case, junghyun’s surprise is feinted, even if sungyeon is too trusting to realize.

“must have snagged onto a tree on the way here.”

sungyeon’s brows knit together. “i thought the trees were a bit taller than that.”

junghyun flicks the blossom casually out the gap under the window, before proceeding to pull the blinds back down. sungyeon’s eyes trail the slow descent of the blossom, carried down hesitantly by the coming breeze.

“i grew a few inches this year,” junghyun says. she’s already tired of explaining, but perhaps it’s better to make up excuses now. “and the branches hang lower.”

she needn’t have exerted herself, because sungyeon’s already turned back to her book, index finger anchoring a wild page that’s flapped up under the assault of the air conditioner.

if junghyun really thought about it, the state of affairs is just - highly inconvenient. pointless, even. she was never one to be unaware of her own feelings, even less one to be blind to what was in front of her.

still, eunwoo, as if having heard her, stumbles into the courtyard below, dragging someone in a gray cardigan along. sungyeon’s turned to watch them too, her attention drawn to the noise, fingers splayed across junghyun’s arm. 

jieqiong bends down, springing up to shower handfuls of cherry blossoms upon eunwoo’s head.

the flowers in her gut arise, again, unbidden. junghyun has researched it, of course. her condition is the furthest from severe. mild, really. the less hope one has, the more it becomes less of an illness and more of a mild flu, tucked somewhere between fortnights and rainy days. junghyun gets it once a few days, more when eunwoo’s around. 

“hey, i’ll text them to come up,” sungyeon proposes. her voice is bright.

“ah,” junghyun says. she feels the itch in her throat and makes a decision. “i’ll go get them.”

sungyeon’s look is curious. they’ve been holed up here for hours. “okay.”

junghyun gets down one flight of stairs before it bursts: from her lips, a single flower.

eunwoo’s laugh drifts up from the courtyard below.


	3. Chapter 3

eunwoo's mouth runs faster than her brain, and her heart has always run even faster than that, so she breathes, in the deep night, without warning: "i didn't think success meant you'd always be so far away from me." her thumbs draw gentle circles on jieqiong's wrist, and jieqiong shudders softly, her toes brushing against eunwoo's shin.  
  
jieqiong got back three hours ago. she'd pushed her luggage - small and compact, now, after months of practice - under her own bed and ambled to where eunwoo was, tucked under her bright blue duvet. eunwoo has barely closed her eyes since.  
  
jieqiong lets out a breath that ghosts across eunwoo's cheek, something like a laugh. weighed down with fatigue. it smells like mint.  
  
"i didn't think you had it in you to say that without qualifying it," jieqiong says, finally. her eyes are quiet under the dim light of the moon.  
  
"what can i say," eunwoo laughs, quietly, careful not to wake siyeon above her. eunwoo doesn't know - doesn't want to know, maybe - how to quantify the phantom limb jieqiong has become to her. it sounds something like i miss you, and i want you here, and i lo -. she bites all of it back under jieqiong's steady gaze, the fingers that tuck her hair behind her ears. how jieqiong doesn't laugh at her poor attempt to diffuse the situation.   
  
when it's only the two of them things seem to fade into the background - the jokes that eunwoo's used to cracking at her expense, the brightness of jieqiong's eyes. it's heavier. if eunwoo were honest with herself, she's afraid.  
  
"absence makes the heart not hate you," eunwoo says, finally, lamely.   
  
something shutters in jieqiong's expression, sweeps over her features as quickly as it fades away. jieqiong closes her eyes.  
  
"okay," jieqiong says, quietly. eunwoo's korean is worse than hers now, for sure, tongue-tied and heavy. she trips over her own words so much now, but jieqiong's never here to make fun of her.  
  
coward, eunwoo thinks. be more reckless, eunwoo thinks. ask her to stay, eunwoo dares herself.   
  
the next flight to beijing is at 1pm tomorrow. the world keeps turning, no matter that jieqiong feels like her axis.

"okay," eunwoo parrots, when jieqiong tucks her face into the crook of eunwoo's neck, when her breathing evens out, when her arms fall slack against eunwoo's waist.  
  
  



End file.
